


Quinn the Conqueror

by trancer



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Femslash, First Time, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many things Quinn Fabray is good at, there are many things she loves. But there’s one thing, above all others, that she really loves. And she’s really good at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quinn the Conqueror

Quinn has a certain passion, even though passion seems too soft a word. Obsession. Addiction. She’s not sure what to call it because all the terminology just doesn’t fit. Cunnilingus sounds like a speech impediment. Eating pussy and all those other euphemisms are just too crude.

But, whether there is or is not the perfect word or phrase for it, Quinn loves doing it. A lot. More specifically, she loves doing it to one person.

Rachel Berry.

Like many things in life, Quinn discovered this newly found passion of hers completely by accident. An hour or so after Cheerios practice, long after all the extracurricular activities in school were over, Quinn stayed late because she figured it was just easier to finish her homework at school and leave it there then drag it home and bring it all back.

Athletic bag slung over her shoulder, keys in hand, she walked towards the main entrance suddenly stopping in her tracks because she’d heard *her*.

Rachel Berry.

This was, of course, before she’d gone to Coach Sylvester with a plan to take down Glee. Before she’d gone to that 7-11 an hour’s drive outside of Lima to buy a home pregnancy kit because she’d skipped her period and needed to be sure.

Her only obsession at the time was ending Finn’s obsession with being in Glee, ending Finn‘s obsession with being near *her*.

Quinn stood in the entrance of the auditorium, staring down at Rachel as she stood center stage belting her heart out, the rage seething within her. She was NOT envious. She, also, was not deaf either. She’d seen the YouTube videos, left nasty comments and laughed at the brunette’s ridiculousness along with Santana and Brittany. All while that little voice in the back of her brain squeaked tinyly that, you know, Rachel really does have a nice voice. That, underneath the diva attitude, Rachel Berry had the talent to back it all up. Which just made Quinn hate her even more.

“It’s not going to work, you know.” She’d made her way to the edge of the stage, haughtily folding her arms over her chest. “Just because Finn’s in Glee doesn’t mean he’s going to like you.”

“Your anger’s understandable.” If her words phased Rachel, it didn’t show. The brunette merely smiled icily, setting down her sheet music. “I mean, Finn joining Glee means there‘s something obviously missing in his life that he means to fill. That it‘s not you..”

Quinn didn’t even hear what had come out of the girl’s mouth next. She was already marching up onto the stage, until she was toe to toe with one Rachel Berry. “Stay away from Finn!” she warned, finger jabbing pointedly at Rachel’s chest.

“I was in Glee before Finn was,” she sneered back. “Maybe you should be telling *him* to stay away from me.”

As much as she wanted to slap Rachel silly, Quinn wasn’t a violent person and hitting wasn’t a very Christian thing to do. She used words instead but they just seemed to be rolling off Rachel’s back like so much water off a duck. A very loud, annoying duck. And all Quinn wanted Rachel to do was just SHUT UP! She just wanted Rachel off balance, just a little, so Quinn could land her (not physical but metaphorical) killing blow.

Because, just as Quinn wasn’t deaf, she wasn’t blind either. The boys (not Finn) may have teased, taunted and slushied her. But she saw the way their eyes looked at Rachel Berry when they thought no one was looking. They saw the same things Quinn did. You know, when you removed the diva attitude, laughable appliquéd sweaters, pleated skirts worn a little too high and bobby-socks, Rachel Berry was kind of hot. All it would take is one left turn instead of a right, say, the school quarterback joining Glee and people might be a bit more forgiving. The status quo Quinn spent so hard maintaining, especially with her on top, might go all topsy-turvy.

So, yes, of course she’d noticed the gorgeous, dark chestnut hair, the expressive brown eyes and full, pouty lips, the pert breasts, impossibly long legs and - because, honestly, not blind - nice ass. At the moment, Quinn just wanted Rachel to shut up. But, she was down to her last card and all the other ones had been losing hands. Kissing Rachel didn’t really seem like the ‘right’ thing to do, it wasn’t very Christian but, on the other hand, it wasn’t exactly *un*-Christian either. It just seemed like something that would shut Rachel Berry the hell up.

That’s when Quinn’s hand shot up, grasped Rachel by the back of her neck and pulled the brunette in.

And there was silence. Beautiful, glorious silence. And Rachel had kinda stopping trying to push Quinn away. And, though Quinn at the time never would have admitted this in a million years, Rachel was kind of a good kisser. Certainly better than Finn, who was always a bit too sloppy and seemed to think of kissing as something he *had* to do to get to the good stuff, like putting his hands under Quinn’s bra or her hand inside his jeans.

Something else Quinn, at the time, never would admit in a million years, it wasn’t Rachel’s tongue that slipped into Quinn’s mouth. No, it was definitely vice versa.

The details are a bit hazy on how the two of them wound up lying on the blanket with all the pillows romantically scattered about onstage, kissing for what felt like an eternity. Because, Quinn really, really liked this. This feeling of domination. She liked control and she definitely, definitely had Rachel Berry where she wanted her. Sort of. Her plans to dominate and control Rachel had never really involved kissing before.

Then Rachel’s thigh slid between Quinn’s legs and lifted. The shudder that ripped through Quinn shocked some sense back into her because Quinn Fabray does NOT get turned on by Rachel Berry. But then Quinn’s thigh slipped between Rachel’s leg and, instead of cheap cotton, Quinn felt nothing but skin - warm, *wet* skin. And the snake coiled within her found an opportunity to strike.

“Is this for Finn, too?” Quinn snarled. Quinn shivered because Rachel was looking up at her with eyes just a little bit tinged with fear. Something else Quinn at the time would never admit, how much she got off on people being afraid of her. Any other day, that look in Rachel’s eyes would be enough, enough to know Quinn had got one over on her and she could save the rest for another day. But there was Rachel’s thigh and Quinn’s heat, and there was Quinn’s thigh and Rachel’s *really* wet heat.

Which was all the WRONG time to think about that time with Puck and how it’d felt when he’d touched her there. Because she was a good Christian girl and she didn’t do things like that. With Puck it had felt both right and wrong, because, in that moment, she’d given up some of the control she so desperately clung to.

It wasn’t right to want to do that to Rachel but Quinn couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t exactly wrong either.

“God,” she snarled again as her thigh shifted and Rachel arched into her. “You’re such a freak.”

“Quinn..” whatever Rachel was going to say next cut off in the back of her throat as Quinn’s hand moved between them and touched her there. Rachel’s eyes went closed and Quinn merely blinked in amazement.

 _‘Is that what girl’s feel like?’_

Because it was good. Really good. Rachel was soft and warm and wet. Quinn explored with her fingers. The smooth, kinda puffy flesh on the outside, the folds and little creases, the hard kinda nipple-y thing which Quinn quickly discovered was Rachel’s clit because the girl practically jumped out of her skin when Quinn touched it.

There was also this.. scent. Rich and musky. Kinda like what Brittany and Santana always smell like when they’ve popped up from out of nowhere, looking flushed and sweaty, smiling at each other. It was like being Downtown and catching the scent of something good and being compelled to find the source. Because, that’s what Quinn wanted - the source. She no longer wanted to touch Rachel, she had to *see* her, see ‘it’. This wonderful thing that’s been here all along.

She clambered down Rachel’s body, sitting on her heels as she placed her hands on Rachel’s knees and pulled the brunette’s legs open. And, okay, Quinn had seen vaginas before. Sort of. Mostly in the magazines Finn kept hidden under his bed that he thinks Quinn doesn’t know about. The ones she quickly opened then snapped closed because those magazines were definitely *not* the type of reading material a good Christian girl like her should be reading.

There was a part of her that kinda gasped in surprise as if, once she opened Rachel’s legs, she expected Chewbacca to spring out at her. Like she hadn’t just had her whole hand down there and all over it.

There was also the ‘vulnerability’ of it all. Because there was a trust in Rachel that hadn’t been there with Puck. He’d merely fingered her then stuck it in. And here’s Rachel, completely open and exposed, all flushed pink, swollen and wet.

Quinn looked up at Rachel, and there was this unspoken moment. The moment where Quinn actually asked, and Rachel said ‘yes’. Because, deep down, Quinn knew this was one of those important moments. The kind of moment Quinn wished she’d been sober for when she’d had hers.

Quinn leaned down, stretched her body out onto the blanket, setting her elbows on the floor. It was even better close up, like some kind of painting come to life. She pulled the folds open with her fingers, watched as the wetness just leaked from Rachel’s opening.

Then, she leaned in, gently pressed the tip of her tongue to Rachel’s flesh and it was like a light flicking on over her head. Visceral, carnal, primal. Quinn flicked her tongue and there was this.. sound that came from Rachel. Acceptance. Acquiescence. Rachel had finally given herself to Quinn. Completely. The thrill of it all rippled through Quinn, pooled achingly between her legs.

It wasn’t perfect. Quinn was okay with that. As long she kept doing this, Rachel would keep moaning, keep writhing beneath her, pressing against Quinn’s tongue, leaking into her mouth. Then, Rachel tensed, like really hard because Quinn could feel it against her tongue and the thighs suddenly clamped about her head. Rachel tensed, a straining, grunting sound releasing from her throat and then she was trembling, bucking and undulating against Quinn.

It wasn’t until Rachel collapsed on the blanket, breathless and spent, that Quinn realized Rachel had orgasmed. Something that definitely did not happen with Puck.

It was over.

Over.

Quinn hurriedly jumped to her feet, almost panicking. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, then stared at the wetness glistening from the stage lights on her skin. This wasn’t supposed to happen and what had felt oh-so right merely moments ago suddenly became very, *very* wrong.

Rachel rose up onto an elbow, used her other hand to push her skirt back down. Her lips began to move as if she intended to say something and Quinn quickly cut her off. Because if Rachel spoke first something would break inside Quinn. Something she knew she wouldn’t be able to put back together.

“You tell anyone about this..” Quinn glared, going back to the part of her that felt familiar. Safe. “And I will END you!”

**

It was easy to fall back into the routine of Quinn Fabray - the girl who didn’t eat Rachel Berry’s pussy and like it. But Quinn quickly learned the girl she was supposed to be was nothing more than a façade, one easily shattered and unable to be put back together again. Because she was Quinn Fabray the president of the Chastity Club and pregnant with the child of her boyfriend’s best friend, now. Which, all things considered, was worse than the girl who went down on Rachel Berry in the auditorium and liked it.

It was easy, what with all the baby drama, to ignore that moment in her life. At least, that’s what Quinn liked to believe. She *was* still in Glee. She still had contact with Rachel. Every day. Rachel and her impossibly long legs despite being so petite, legs that went up into those skirts that were as short as her legs were long.

It was on such a day, a day before Quinn was the girl *everyone* knew was knocked up with her boyfriend’s best friend, when Quinn wanted to be someone else. She was tired of being sad all the time. And angry at herself for always being sad. Which just made her angrier because anger was an emotion she understood, something she could control.

Taking it out on Rachel was just instinctual.

“I see you’re wearing panties today.” It was reckless and a bit dangerous, admitting out loud in the girl’s bathroom that she’d been paying attention to what was under Rachel’s skirt. But it was after school and the bathroom closest to the Teacher’s Lounge, which meant it was *always* empty and Quinn was willing to take her chances.

The hands on either side of the sink clenched tighter. Rachel lifted her head, eyes focusing on Quinn’s in the mirror. She’d been crying. “I’m not in the mood, Quinn.”

Of course, Rachel crying didn’t stop Quinn, it compelled her. Spoke to the part of her that loves seeing others hurt and vulnerable. Quinn walked until she was behind the brunette, practically on top of her.

“What’s the matter, RuPaul? Reality starting to sink into all that fiction you’ve created.”

Rachel’s eyes went hard, cold. “You’re one to talk. What do you think Finn would say about our little reality in the auditorium?”

It was like a match tossed onto a flame. Quinn *knew* this, she was good at this. Conflict. Confrontation. She stepped closer, lined her lips to the shell of Rachel’s ear. “Like Finn would ever believe you.”

Rachel blinked, closed her eyes and lowered her head. Quinn won. She’d finally gotten the look of surrender from Rachel she’d sought a month ago. But, she couldn’t help twisting the knife just a little further. “Like he‘d ever choose someone like you over me.”

“Quinn,” Rachel whispered. “Please.”

Quinn placed her hands on the swell of Rachel’s hips, like she couldn’t stop herself from using every trick in the book. “How many times do you get off thinking about what I did to you?”

 _What I did to you.._

Rachel’s head lifted up, her eyes meeting Quinn’s in the mirror. Something shifted between them. Rachel’s eyes were still hard, but the irises were wide and black as coal, the flush building on her cheeks and definitely not from embarrassment.

“How many times do you get off thinking about what *you* did to me?” Her eyes squinted in the mirror, a corner of her lips upturned. “You liked it, didn’t you? (Shut up!) You‘re thinking about it now, aren‘t you? (Shut up!) What do you think Finn or your precious Cheerios would say if they knew Quinn Fabray likes to eat pussy?”

SHUT UP!!

Quinn grabbed Rachel by the shoulders, fingers digging into her sweater. She yanked the girl around, hard, viciously. Rachel spun, tilted wildly off balance and then slammed, back against the wall. And then Quinn was on her, doing the one thing she was absolutely certain would shut Rachel Berry up. Kissing.

But Rachel wasn’t so wounded and vulnerable anymore. Her hands clasped Quinn’s by the face and it’s her tongue jutting into Quinn’s mouth. All wet and sloppy and oh-so-much like Finn but oh-so-much better. Quinn whimpered like something broke within her. She pushed her hand between them, roughly slipped it between Rachel’s legs and it’s all clumsy fumbling and want, thick skirt tangling in her fingers.

Quinn dropped hard onto her knees, grabbing Rachel’s thigh and hefting it onto her shoulder. She wasn’t sure who this was for anymore. She just wanted to be *this* Quinn again - the girl who liked eating pussy. Even if it meant being dirty and debauched in the girl’s bathroom. Even if it meant being with Rachel again. At least Rachel understood. Sorta. Maybe. It’s not like they were friends or anything.

Friends didn’t yank on the other’s panties until they ripped open. Friends didn’t bury their face between the other’s thighs, mouth open wide and hungry, clamping onto their sex like a land-locked fish.

Quinn purred, low and throaty and just so fucking hungry, at that first taste of Rachel’s flesh in her mouth. She slathered her tongue around. Rachel had been right - Quinn *had* been thinking about this. She was a bit better now, knew what she wanted now. She circled her tongue around Rachel’s opening. Wrapped her arm around Rachel’s thigh to keep her from wiggling so goddamned much as she pushed her tongue inside. Nose buried deep in Rachel’s folds, just scent and taste and texture and wetness on her tongue.

No longer Quinn the Pregnant One, or the Cheerio, or the President of the Celibacy Club. She’d become Quinn the Conqueror, slayer of chastity and purity, debaucher of school choir divas. Because, maybe there were other girl’s out there who tasted like this, who could turn Quinn into this wrong-but-right thing. But, Rachel was *hers* now. THIS was hers.

She withdrew her tongue, then wrapped her lips around Rachel’s clit. There were fingers threading tight in her hair, hips grinding, undulating on her face, whimpering mewls filling her ears. Like before but better because Quinn, figuring she was already on the road to Hell so she might as well go for broke, had touched herself by now, broken that taboo she’d swore she’d never break. Understood what it was Rachel had felt that time in the auditorium. And if she kept doing this? Rachel would definitely do it again.

Rachel did.

Quinn only rose until after she’d milked Rachel of every possible aftershock. She stepped backwards, taking the moment to admire her handiwork - Rachel, slumped against the wall, all sweaty and panting, ruined panties bunched around an ankle.

With a paper towel, Quinn wiped her lips and chin. She crumpled it then tossed it into the wastebasket before she made her way towards the door.

“Rachel..” she stopped before pulling on the handle.

“I know. I know. If I tell anyone about this..” Rachel paused to exhale a long breath as she rested the back of her head against the wall, eyes still closed, soft smirk on her lips. “You’ll end me.”

**

“I don’t see why I get called Man Hands,” Rachel squeaked as Quinn grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her behind the stage of the auditorium. “When you’re the one always manhandling ME!”

“Shut up, Berry!” Quinn found the closest flat surface and pushed Rachel up against it, then dove in for a kiss.

It was the next day, literally, the next day and Quinn was all over Rachel. It must have been the pregnancy hormones. Not that Rachel knew Quinn was pregnant. But she had to have known Quinn was using her. And Quinn probably, maybe, in another life or something, probably would have felt bad about using Rachel. But she had Rachel on the floor now, tossing Rachel’s panties haphazardly behind her because they were definitely not important at the moment. Rachel’s fingers threaded into Quinn’s hair and practically shoved Quinn between her legs.

Which all made Quinn wonder - later of course, much, much later - if it was Quinn who was using Rachel, or if it was Rachel using Quinn.

And Quinn couldn’t help but think if this was getting used, as her tongue plunged into Rachel’s opening and that _taste_ was filling her mouth, she could *definitely* get used to this.

**

It was the fourth day of Quinn’s new life - Quinn, the Pregnant Homeless Teen. She thought she might be able to live with the Schuester’s but that idea died the moment Terri, the woman who was supposed to adopt Quinn’s baby, mouthed ‘sorry’ then closed the door in Quinn’s face.

Quinn thought about wishing her parents had bought her a bigger car that made sleeping in the backseat an actuality instead of the whole cramped and totally uncomfortable she currently felt. But thinking about her parents just made her think about the disappointment on her mother’s face and the anger on her father’s before he kicked her out. So, she just pulled the sole blanket she had about her shoulders and tried concentrating on the rain pounding outside.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the glass and Quinn stifled her scream, hoping against hope they hadn’t seen her in the backseat. She didn’t have any money to afford getting her car towed. She didn’t know of any other place to go other than the school parking lot.

Another knock.

“Quinn!”

“Rachel?” Quinn clambered halfway into the front seat enough to partially roll down the window. Rachel pulled back the hood on her raincoat enough to reveal her smiling face. She could also see two men standing under an umbrella next to a car. It took Quinn a moment but she realized the men were Rachel’s fathers. Quinn lowered her voice to a forced whisper, “What Hell are you doing?”

Rachel opened the door, a sympathetic but wide smile on her face. “Taking you home.”

Quinn sat in the backseat of the Berry’s car and cried the entire drive to her new home.

Rachel held her the entire time.

**

Quinn stood before the full length mirror, smoothing out the creases over the stomach of her Cheerios uniform. With the exception of her hair, which was loose about her shoulders instead of the mandatory ponytail, Quinn looked like her old self. And Quinn had to admit, with a bit of a smile on her lips, she looked *damn* good.

It was two days before the first day of summer Cheerios practice. It was also the fourth day in a row Quinn had worn her Cheerios uniform, not that she’d been counting. She trailed her eyes upwards, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. She looked like the old Quinn, *felt* like the old Quinn. But she couldn’t help but wonder if people could actually *see* the differences in her, the changes that she’d gone through and all the different Quinn’s she’d been over the past year.

This Quinn had no name, at least, not yet.

Rather than dwell on it, because Quinn had better things to do than wring her hands over a name only she called herself, Quinn exited her bedroom. The sound of singing, muffled because of the sound-proofed walls that weren’t sound proof enough to contain, met Quinn’s ears. She crossed the hallway, passing the bathroom door she and Rachel occasional fought like Hell cats over.

Quinn didn’t bother to knock, not because she was an impolite person, she didn’t knock because she knew at the volume Rachel was singing the brunette wouldn’t have heard it anyway.

She entered Rachel’s room and received a sly wink through the mirror. Quinn flopped onto Rachel’s bed. It was one of those lazy summer days, where one didn’t really want to do much of anything other than lounge around. So much had happened to Quinn in the past year. So much had also happened to Rachel. Quinn was kind of amazed they went through a large portion of it together.

Quinn had changed. So had Rachel. Rachel dated Finn. Broke up with Finn. Dated Puck. Broke up with Puck and went back to Finn, who eventually broke it off. At which point, Rachel decided it was time to put a moratorium on boys and go back to concentrating solely on her career because there’d would always be time for stupid boy drama.

Rachel had also lost her virginity, to Finn of all people. Technically, Quinn had been Rachel’s first long before Finn but she didn’t argue the point since she really didn’t know if girl’s could lose their virginity to other girl’s. Of course, Rachel had been smarter than Quinn which is what happens when you have two parents who believe in giving their children a proper sex education. Parents who took Rachel out to her favorite restaurant the day she got her prescription for the Pill, then took Quinn to hers when she did the same.

Quinn thought she’d feel different, as if she were going to suddenly turn into some promiscuous, psycho, slut beast because that’s what *she’d* been raised to believe. Instead, she didn’t feel much different although the lack of scorching-hot-blade piercing her gut cramps were a welcome relief.

She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with a hand, thinking maybe she could see the changes in herself in Rachel. Rachel was standing before her mirror wearing nothing more than a bra, black, pleated skirt and bobby socks. As if she’d been dressing then stopped what she was doing, overcome by the desire to sing. Knowing Rachel, Quinn mused, that’s *exactly* what happened.

Rachel was singing Beyonce’s ‘Naughty Girl’, doing things with her hips that even Quinn didn’t know she could do. And all thoughts of who Quinn was or wasn’t were instantaneously replaced with thoughts of something else. Her lips parted slightly, like her internal temperature had suddenly quadrupled and she needed to vent the heat. Her tongue surreptitiously poked the corner of her mouth. Quinn had changed so much..

But one thing remained the same.

The song ended. Rachel hit ‘stop’ on her cd player, rummaging about her desk like she suddenly remembered she still had clothes to put on.

“Rachel,” Quinn rolled her lower lip between her teeth, let it pop back out wetly. “What color are your panties?”

Rachel turned her head towards Quinn, just slightly, just enough to see the wicked glint in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” Quinn answered. “I do.”

Rachel turned around fully. The smile on her lips widened. She drew her hands up her hips, carefully sliding them under her skirt. Bending forward, her eyes completely focused on Quinn’s, she slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them. She stood back to her full height, extending her arm. “See? Black.”

In that time, when Rachel dated boys and Quinn was Miss Pregnant Teen, they’d gotten closer. Quinn would probably say Rachel was her best friend, if there wasn’t that ’but more’ qualifier. Quinn wasn’t sure what to call it, she just wanted and Rachel let her. But ’let’ wasn’t quite the right word either. While Quinn had often slipped into Rachel’s bedroom like a thief in the night, hungry and urgent, needing to feel her, taste her, Rachel had slipped into Quinn’s bedroom more. In her ill-fitted negligee, Rachel slid under the covers, took Quinn’s hand and slid it needily between her legs. There was more kissing than there was those first dozen or so times, back when Quinn was ‘The Angry Cheerio’. There was also more touching, caressing and holding. Sometimes Rachel would cry. Sometimes Quinn would. And sometimes Rachel would slide down Quinn’s torso, heated eyes black as midnight, open Quinn’s legs and show Quinn what it was like to be touched like that down there.

Quinn rose onto her knees, lifting her hand and crooking a finger. “C’mere.”

Rachel climbed onto the bed, walked on her knees. She drew her arms over Quinn’s shoulders, as Quinn took hers and wrapped them around Rachel’s waist. Quinn purred into Rachel’s mouth as they kissed and their tongues danced. Rachel was always very good at kissing.

They pulled apart, eyes closed, nuzzling their faces against the other’s. Rachel’s moratorium on boys had produced a *very* happy Quinn because, now, Quinn had Rachel all to herself. Quinn’s hands began to roam, sliding down the backs of Rachel’s thighs then up and under that damn, short skirt.

“Rachel?”

“Mmm,” Rachel murmured as Quinn’s hands slid up her back.

“You’re not wearing any panties.” Which was a funny thing to mention while unsnapping Rachel’s bra.

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you wearing panties?” Quinn asked, discarding the removed piece of clothing by tossing it behind her.

“I always take them off whenever you’re around.” Rachel laid back on the mattress, pulling Quinn down with her. “Keeps me from having to buy new ones.”

“You calling me a panty thief?”

“I was thinking more like vagina monster. Or maybe vagina zombie, instead of ‘brains’ you‘re all ‘ _vaaagggiiinnnaaa_ ’.”

Quinn drew her lips along the line of Rachel‘s jaw. “Are you saying I have a problem?”

“The thought of an intervention may have entered my mind,” Rachel gasped, pulling her knees higher on either side of Quinn‘s torso. “Possibly a twelve-step program. Maybe we could get you on, like, a reality show or something - Dr. Drew‘s Vagina Rehabilitation. Or how about a documentary..”

“Rachel?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Make me.”

Of course Quinn did. Nothing turned her on more than the possibility of shutting one Rachel Berry up. As much as she loved the kissing part, seriously, she really *loved* the kissing part. She’d lost count of the many times she and Rachel did just that. She just, you know, loved doing a certain something else just as much. She most especially loved doing it to one Rachel Berry. An addiction? Possibly. An obsession? Maybe. A passion? Most definitely.

Because being *this* Quinn? The one that made Rachel moan and mewl and writhe like she was about to crawl out of her skin when Quinn parted wet and swollen flesh with her tongue and dove in.

This was her favorite Quinn of all.

END


End file.
